Heart of Gold
by AmieWickfield
Summary: MA - AU Harry/Draco SLASH - Draco has changed, but maybe it is not in his best interest...
1. Prologue

**Authors note: **This is an AU story involving mostly a Harry/Draco ship, and possibly others. Rated MA for Mature Adults only! :)

It was Draco's seventh year at Hogwarts. He idly leaned against the wall, watching the students pour into the dining hall. The first years outfits were pressed, their shoes polished, they looked like model students, but their anxious worries radiated from them like the heat from asphalt in summer. He unfolded his arms across his chest and bit into the apple he had been holding and let his eyes wander across the array of heads finding their seats. The summer had changed Draco, involuntarily. Because of his parents inability to leave the side of Voldemort, Draco had been assisted by Snape to leave and come live in an abandoned small brick home near Glasgow. Snape visited him weekly, but for the most part Draco had been alone (well, mostly) and unable to travel, not even daring to go into the city or use his magic for fear he may be discovered. He learned to fish on his own, to grow a garden, to live like a muggle. And it had changed him. But now the school year began anew and it was once again safe for him to venture out, with the same protection Harry had been under at Hogwarts, the headmaster Professor Dumbledore. However, Draco found himself in a very peculiar position. A small, and maybe un-noticeable part of him had drastically changed yet here he was plunged back into the environment where a certain part of him was expected to continue existing. No one had heard from him all summer, for obvious reasons, but they now had no reason to believe that anything bad had happened. That he had run away with his tail between his legs in fear of being trapped like his parents. Although he was unaware himself, Snape had in fact created a wonderful cover for him, telling his friends that he was on a very extended vacation on a remote island with an imaginary girlfriend. Draco wondered how many Slytherins would even come back this year, which ones would have already been imprisoned by the dark lord. He selfishly hoped that his friends would not return, in fear that they would either rat him out or worse, expect him to have remained quintessentially the same. No matter how much he missed them, or really, how much he missed his old self, he couldn't deny that he had changed.

He threw the apple into the air, catching it and throwing it back up, over and over again. His eyes glazed over as he found himself lost in thought, worry, and sadness. Snape informed him as often as he could on the whereabouts and condition of his parents, who apparently knew that he had ran off. According to Snape, it had been their idea, but Draco doubted it, knowing full well how important pride was to the family. Although, he also knew that self-preservation was by far and away one of the most defining characteristics of any Slytherin. Perhaps they would have wanted him to survive, to keep the Malfoy blood alive. But what would they say if they saw him now? He wore a simple black sweater with black jeans bought at the local shop where he had been staying, perhaps it was second hand, he didn't care. His hair, rather than swept back proper and orderly, was loose and roughly cut. Strands covered one side of his forehead, but as he swept his hand back through his hair, it managed to fall into a state of even dire disarray. They would scoff.

He caught the apple again and stared at it intently, whispered something and caused the apple to burst into dust which Draco blew off his hand. As the room calmed down into a low roar, Draco took a seat at the end of the Slytherin table, much to his surprise and his dismay, no one was missing. He hadn't decided how he should behave at this point, so he made a point to look no one in the eye. The headmaster took his place front and center, addressing the students with his concern over the recent attacks on muggle cities, warning everyone to stay cautious and be safe, catching Draco's gaze for a mere moment, long enough that Draco now knew that he knew. Instead of a feeling a sense of relief, he felt cold to the bone, exposed, and as he finally let his gaze wander amongst his past companions, even more so. This was going to be a long year, he thought to himself.

He wondered what would happen if he were to lift the sleeve up on any one of his friends, what would he find?


	2. Ch 1 Draco's Summer

_Three Months Ago_

The first week near the muggle city of Glasgow was proving to be one of the worst weeks in Draco's life. Severus had essentially kidnapped the young man in his sleep and apparated the both of them at an unknown location very, very north of London. Draco screamed and pleaded with Severus to take him back, but to no avail. Severus left Draco, taking his wand with him and would return in one week. That week proved to be incredibly long and terrible. Draco didn't eat, or sleep, and had no means of cleaning himself or his clothing (as he apparently did not know how without the use of magic). When Severus returned, he found the boy crumpled up in the corner of his bedroom, dirty and sobbing. Although the longer Severus was there, the more dangerous the situation became for Draco, he stayed long enough to show him simple basic living techniques, such as preparing muggle food, washing clothes like a muggle, bathing like a muggle, and so on. Draco spent most of this time revolted, but also terribly afraid. If Severus had gone to such lengths to protect him, something terrible must have been occurring and Draco was not daft enough to ignore that it most likely involved the Dark Lord himself, and perhaps his parents as well.

During the fourth week of his "vacation", Draco had become well adjusted. He awoke just as dawn was breaking, got out of bed and immediately went about feeding his live stock and watering his plants. He had 5 chickens, 2 hens and one old rowdy rooster. He also had a pet pig, a pet because it was deformed, having only 3 legs and was far too old to taste good anymore, not that Draco would have been able to kill it anyways, having grown very disturbed by his previous behavior towards living creatures. He also had two goats, which weren't really his (they actually were his neighbors, however his neighbor was nearly an entire mile down the road and the goats hadn't found the time to wander back, apparently). He also had one orange cat who was either busy whining or trying to bite him. The old farm house belonged to no one Draco knew or could have known, it was in every way the most muggle home in all of the UK. And that is why it was the perfect hiding place. Draco had figured out many things by now, his parents had found themselves with a change of heart however unable to leave the Dark Lord's side as to preserve their own life. In fear that their son would acquire the same fate, they had the only person they could trust take him and hide him where the Dark Lord and his minions would never find him... in the middle of bloody fucking nowhere.

But he had adjusted, like any good Slytherin. He stood in front of the mirror now, having finished his morning chores, he took a comb from the cold bathroom sink and ran it through his hair, his hand following to smooth out any loose ends. He had tried to preserve some sense of normalcy, buying all black clothing from the small second hand shop in town, attempting to keep his hair manageable and conditioned, but in other ways he had unintentionally changed. Being out in the country, with no magic or companions or really anything to do at all, he had taken to reading. He read lots while in Wiltshire (well at least before the Dark Lord took residence there), but he had never once in his life read a muggle book before until now. The first one he bought, out of boredom or curiosity, was Les Misérables. He had finished it in one sitting, looking up from the last page to notice that night had completely fallen. He didn't leave his seat, the fire next to him crackling, he sat there stroking the worn cover, the tattered pages... Something in Draco had changed. He went back the next day, traveling by bike, down the winding dirt roads back into the small village near Glasgow, the second hand shoppe in which he got his clothing and other odds and ends, "Needful Things" it was called. He surveyed the stacks of books for sale and ended up leaving with so many that he couldn't see in front of himself as he carried them over to his bike. He spent each night reading, engrossed in the philosophies, histories, and woven tales that had absolutely nothing to do with the wizarding world whatsoever. He was confounded, how could these people whom he had for so long thought below him, how could they be capable of such depth? Such raw emotions, such beauty, such sadness?

Being alone for several weeks takes a toll a person, even a person with as much rigor as Draco Malfoy.

His neighbor, whose goats had wandered over to Draco's property, had sent him a letter inviting him to dinner. Fear settled into his bones, he had never even met his neighbor before, how was he to know that he was not a Death Eater? Or something much worse, a wandering Auror who wasn't aware of of Draco's situation, for example. He fretted about in his common room, exiting through the back and continuing his fretting outside. So consumed by his worries, he hadn't noticed the curious looking man standing in the middle of the field behind him, watching Draco with strange eyes.

"You alright, sir?" Came the voice at last, Draco startled and trembling just slightly, spun around to face the man.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt or anything!" The man chuckled, he had a deep soothing voice, one which Draco did not recognize. "I just thought I should come finally greet my neighbor, excuse me for lacking proper etiquette." The man was smiling ear to ear and continued to approach Draco.

Draco just stood there gawking, unsure of whether or not he should run or act like a perfectly civilized muggle. He just stood awkwardly frozen in time watching as the man came up to him, "Oh..." he began, attempting to not stammer, "...yes, hello, nice to meet you, lovely weather and all, feeding my chicks, and what not, and you are?" He said, his eyes darting about trying to think muggle, speak proper muggle. He did not recognize the man as a Death Eater, or as any wizard at all, but his heart still raced, prepared for anything.

The man came up to him, arm extended and a wide smile on his face, "Jude... well, Judah... Parents were a bit religious, means confession... well to confess your sins to God... kind of a dumb name I think, but it's mine," the man rambled, shaking Draco's hand, "and yourself?"

Unable to assemble words, Draco fumbled, "...Erik..." He said, blurting the first name that came to him, "...I'm... I've just... I've just moved here... From uh, Sweden... Not really Swedish, well I am, but I was born in the UK... but my family is Swedish..." He tried quickly in his head to put together a concrete story, he hadn't been prepared for this. "My uncle... uh, this was his house... um, and well, when he died, he passed it down to me... though I didn't really know him... at all really... I was sort of with nothing to do... in Sweden... so I thought I'd come see the place..." he mumbled, his face warmed with embarrassment, he sounded daft. What sort of muggle was he, of course, an awkward one. He sighed, rubbing hand against his arm in discomfort, nearly about to hug himself as he stared down at the ground. "...and I decided to stay for the summer."

"Wonderful!" The man, Jude, bellowed. "Well, it's a lovely home, small little old farm house... bit worn, but filled to the brim with charm. I remember old Mr. Ostergaard... strange man, but lovely all the same! Used to make great meatballs..."

Draco had noticed several books written in Swedish scattered about in the house, had he not noticed, he may have been in deep trouble.

Draco, having realized this, let a humble smirk meet his lips. "Oh yeah?" His head beamed up at the man, "I didn't know him at all really, only met him as a baby once. Though I guess that was enough for him to take a liking to me." Draco straightened himself, forming his thoughts carefully. "I got your post today, is there a special occasion? How should I prepare? I haven't been to the market, but I have some stuff I've managed to collect on my own... what should I make? I can make a mean stew..."

"No occasion! Just a dinner to welcome you, not many folks live around here this far out of town, as I'm sure you've discovered, and I'm pleased to see that you're about my age... what a relief that is! Not that I don't mind the Roberts, or Thompsons... or even those kooky Slovakians... but it is nice to see a young face once in awhile..." Jude rambled, for he was an awkward muggle as well, and perhaps slightly too bubbly for Draco's taste.

"Well, I'll certainly attend." Draco said, trying to remain polite, he suddenly felt an old familiar persuasion creep up into his mind, he understood, for so long, the Dark Lord's cause, the reason his family had loathed mudbloods, but especially muggles. They were half of what a wizard was, just as apes were half of what they were. For a moment, a seer formed on his lips as those thoughts fogged his mind. The change inside him stirred, however, and like the sunlight itself, the fog dissipated, if only momentarily.

"See you later tonight then, Erik! I'll let you get back to your pacing." He smiled, jokingly, turning on his foot and walking back through the field.

Draco stirred the half-hearted bouillabaisse attempt below him, it tasted fine, but not as much as it could if only he had been able to get the right ingredients. The fish he had caught himself earlier that week. He gleamed with pride at how successful he had been. He tried to keep his thoughts away from the stranger, whom he had just met, whom he was making the dish for. He had not convinced himself yet that the man was not a threat. He was very tall, taller than Draco even. He had light brown hair with red and golden flakes throughout. Possibly Scottish, his accent was subtle, but apparent. He was slightly tan, perhaps he was a farmer, Draco thought. He tried to recall every detail about the man, if only there was something which could lead him to believe he was threat or if he was safe, but the man had appeared so ordinary, so humble. He would have been put into Hufflepuff, no doubt, Draco mused.

Tightening the lid on his pot, he strapped it to his basket and began down the road towards the other man's house. He could faintly see it through his back yard, across the field, but he hadn't felt like trudging through the dirt with a heavy pot of stew with him. He rounded the corner tightly, nearly clambering over, forgetting his extra eight. There in front of him he found himself staring at a very, very muggle home. It reminded him of something the Weasleys might have liked. His nose curled in disgust for a moment, but again, the change that was concurrently occurring inside him stirred and shushed his impoliteness. He had never really understood his hate for the Weasleys, even as a pureblood traditionalist, the Weasleys were as pure as his own family. Sure they took to liking muggles, muggle born, and half bloods, but surely that was their own business. Perhaps it was the mere association with them that had disgusted Draco. Having been raised in a strict wizardly fashion, extraordinarily traditional and exceedingly conservative, he had never once thought that perhaps his opinions shouldn't get in the way of knowing someone... He stumbled forward off his bike, realizing he had lost himself in thought. A new habit he had acquired from being so often alone. He made his way up the small path, up the old wooden steps, the paint having nearly chipped away, he gave a solid knock on the door.

"I'm in the back!" A voice cried out. Draco's head turned, he made his way around the side, the house completely covered in ivy, and the yard was one giant garden. It was stunning.

Draco found the man laying on a hammock, enjoying the sun setting in the field surrounding him. Draco couldn't help but stare, the ordinary man looking heavenly in the soft red light. His hair was golden, as light cascaded around his figure. Draco startled and speechless turned away to view the back of the man's home. He lifted his pot into the air, "I made bouillabaisse."

Jude lifted his head up just enough to see Draco, encased in the suns fleeting light, his white hair looked positively on fire, his features pronounced in the coming shadow, his cheekbones reaching his eyes, a striking jaw line, and eyes that looks of polished silver. Mouth agape, Jude coughed looking for his voice. "Fantastic, just set it over there with the other food and come join me."

They dined, and Jude even pulled out a slender chilled bottle of ice wine, pouring each of them small glasses to sip on. Jude rambled on about himself, about his work, his hobbies. Draco discovered he was a writer, here now to be inspired but was coming up short. He was, in fact, Scottish, but had lived most of his life in Canada. His favorite color was orange, and he enjoyed surfing and painting nudes. Draco felt heat rising inside his body as they opened their third bottle of wine, cheap and maybe even too old, but the alcohol was a pleasant buzz that Draco felt was much needed. He hadn't talked to anyone for this length of time in over a month! He was determined to never leave, to never let Jude stop talking. He was interesting, which was strange, being muggle and all, but Draco nearly almost forgot. In fact he so nearly almost forgot that he was just about to go on babbling like a fool as though suddenly Jude and him were best mates at Hogwarts.

Looking up from his empty glass to Jude, Draco swayed, "Please... please call me... me Draco."

"Draco? Is that some sort of nickname?" Jude, who was clearly holding his alcohol much better than Draco was, asked curiously. His eyebrow shooting up while a smirk curled onto his lips.

"Uh... yeah... middle name... it's my middle name... I prefer it..." Draco pushed his glass to Jude, who rather than filling it back up, took it away from him.

"I think you've had enough... Draco." Jude let a sheepish smile creep across his face, he felt warm and fuzzy but no where near as tipsy as Draco was currently. Although, it was not unusual for Jude to get lost to the bottle nightly, he would require more than just some wine to get anywhere.

Draco groaned, "Aww, but I was... I was liking that! Ice wine! So tasty... or even... even the not ice wine stuff..." Draco fell back into his seat, staring up at the stars. The fire between them still large as ever. Where had the time gone? Draco had actually spent the entire night listening to a muggle ramble on about his life and it had kept him entertained, hell, he enjoyed it. Watching the slightly older man's light brown eyes gleam with excitement as he recalled his travels through India, watched as the man's voice grew dark when he spoke of his parents death, when his hands waved about manically as he described the crazy things him and his best friends had done as children... the man was so marvelously intriguing and yet always remained perfectly ordinary.

"Er-Draco... Hey... Wake up..." Jude said softly against Draco's ear. Draco had curled into a loose ball, his hair ravaged, his shoes nowhere to be found. Jude smiled very softly, tired but feeling a warm sensation in his belly which he had missed. Draco had been so polite, listening to him gab on endlessly about his miserable life. Jude moved the hair from Draco's eyes revealing the soft white skin underneath, the dancing fire reflected upon it. Jude leaned down, wrapping his arms around Draco and lifting him up.

Draco awoke to the smell of fresh rain, and the soft sound of tapping. He rolled his face into the pillow and attempted to lift himself up, but his arms gave in and his face fell back into the pillow. Draco groaned... this was not his pillow. Alarmed, remembering who he really was, Draco shot up his tired dry eyes squinting in the light as he rolled onto his back and off the bed. He was still wearing his clothes from the day before. _Where am I?_ Draco thought to himself as tip-toed out the bedroom door, peering down the small hallway. He smelled something delicious coming from down the stairs, and the pleasant sound of a low hum, whimsical and light. _Jude!_ Draco realized then that he must have fallen asleep while still at Jude's house, he had been so absolutely wasted that he simply couldn't recall. He had never before drank that much. Draco realized his head was throbbing and he wanted nothing more than to just go back to sleep. He slipped down the stairs as quietly as he could, hoping he could head back to his own bedroom and spend rest of the day unconscious.

"G'mornin sunshine! I thought you would never wake up!" Jude said stirring something on the oven in front of him. "Hell, it's 3:00pm. I've never seen anyone sleep so much." Jude smiled to himself, looking back down at what he was doing.

"3:00pm?!" Draco gasped, "Why didn't you wake me!"

Jude spun around, his eyebrow lifted and his smile not present, "Did you have something to attend to?"

Draco looked away, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment, his hand suddenly on the back of his neck, "Well... no... but..."

Jude's smile came back to his face, "Well then no worries, yeah? Look, I'm sorry, I made you dinner though! You can't stay mad at me when you're busy eating."

Draco thought he would appease the strange man, eat his food and be on his way. But that stirring inside of Draco was more than just a simple change of character, of heart, of direction, it was something else entirely, something he would have never seen coming. Over the course of the next several weeks, in fact, over the course of the rest of the summer, Draco spent as many days as he could with Jude. He lavished in the other man's smile, which seemed to have a near constant presence when Draco was around. He wondered if the man was always that cheeky. It was beautiful though, it really was, soft and bold and almost... what was the word, it was sweet. As though if Draco had brushed his fingertips against the other man's lips, he would have fallen into a hyperglycemia caused coma. Draco felt strange thinking about such things. They spent some days cooking, some days reading aloud to one another, they play fenced, rode their bikes to the shore, visited the small pub in town to slur stories of grand adventures, Jude never having noticed some of the irregularities and oddities that riddled Draco's woven tales.

They even had danced, belligerently drunk on Jude's patio, with a hand held radio quietly humming jazz out into the endless night. Jude had slowly risen from his seat, finding his footing he let his hand waver in front of Draco's face, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Get up, dance with me." He mumbled. Draco, drunk beyond comprehension rose willingly, grabbing the other man's hand and as Jude pulled him to his feet, Draco fell into him, his lips coming to rest just upon the man's neck. "M'sorry..." Draco mumbled upon Jude's skin, "...why is everything movin'?" He tried lifting his head, but gave up, purring into the nook of Jude's neck.

Jude let his hands wander Draco's lower back, willingly giving his neck to him. They swayed, Draco's lips mumbling against his skin. Jude thought perhaps he should stop him, perhaps it wasn't right to drag a boy into a man's fight. But as Jude pulled away to speak, he found himself staring into silver orbs, he imagined that must be what stars look like up close, perhaps there was an ocean inside there. Jude's breath caught, their noses just an inch apart and he could feel Draco's hot breath on his own lips, see his frightened eyes searching for something he understood. What a bastard I am, Jude thought, as he let his nose brush into Draco's. They had almost nearly stopped swaying, Draco's hands rested against Jude's shoulder bones as Jude's hands had stilled themselves on the dimples that lay on the very most lower part of Draco's back. He wanted to speak, he wanted to say he was sorry, he wanted to move away, he knew he should, but Jude let his heart ache just for a moment too long, a swelling came to greet him in his throat, and as his face grew warm he forgot why he shouldn't be here doing this right now with him, Draco, some stranger he had entangled.

For Draco, this was the most unusual, most unique experience of his life, for he had never been this close to a man before. Although his head spun and the alcohol made every inch of him tremble and flush with warmth, he found himself in complete clarity as Jude's hands on his back brought them closer and Draco's heart began to race along with the thoughts in his mind, should he say something, should he laugh, should he move away. He remained still. Suddenly, as those by instinct, Draco let his eyes close and he removed the space between them letting his lips just dainty meet with Jude's. The smell of alcohol was strong among them both, but Draco ignored that, somehow finding the smell of lavender on Jude's skin. He pressed his lips just a bit harder upon the other man's, he could feel his hesitation, but dizzily he let his lips just slightly part, wetting their lips and sucking softly before pulling his head away just to find out he hadn't been breathing. He felt pale as his heart raced and oxygen finally found its way into his blood again. What had he just done, he thought to himself hurriedly amid an array of bombarding pleas and desires and pains going through his mind.

The two didn't move for a moment that must have felt like all of eternity. Draco realized his hand had come to cusp the back of Jude's neck, and Jude's hands were squeezing him tight, keeping their hips pressed against each other and having realized this, Draco began to breathe even heavier. Lightheaded and scared, he tore himself away, mouth agape and eyes wide. Jude turned away, striding inside without a word. Draco was too drunk to leave, on a normal night he would have crashed on Jude's bed but he managed to pull himself properly onto the hammock outside.

When morning came, as it always does, Draco decided it would be best to pretend the incident had never happened, pretend he had been too drunk to even remember. Unbeknownst to him, this is exactly what Jude thought as he found himself waking up on his kitchen floor with an almost completely empty bottle of rum tightly grasped in his hand.

They maintained their usual habits, but with a small separation that seemed abnormally artificial. Draco, having completely forgotten about his true problems, found himself utterly lost in these wild new ideas that haunted him each time he caught a simple glimpse of Jude. Had he not realized before, or was this completely new? What was going on? His mind raged against him. He never realized how often he brushed his hand against Jude's skin on accident, he never realized how often he scooted himself closer to allow himself to breathe in the smell of lavender that seemed to be a part of his very DNA, he never realized how often he found himself lost, staring at the other man from a small distance as they read silently to themselves. He never realized how absolutely gorgeous Jude was, soft lightly sun kissed skin, deep brown eyes, ruffled hair that would be so much better if only Draco could run his hands through it, let his hands slide around the man's head, let a finger trace his pale pink lips which always looked so bitten... Draco's eyes glazed as he became lost in thought. Where had these feelings come from?

For Jude, this was beautiful, tragic, but nothing new. Being a gay man even now was not easy or kind. When Jude had realized his feelings, he was nothing but terrified, and rightly so. His father trashed him until he was bloodied and blue. His mother showed no sympathy as his father pushed him out the door. Jude had cried, he was so young, only 16, his eyes swollen in pain as he cried harder than he thought humanly possible, his throat closing as he tried to scream... oh how he had wanted to scream. And now he had ruined this poor kid.

And then it happened, the day Draco had forgotten, the day he would return to London to King's Cross Station and return to Hogwarts as though nothing had never occurred. All he thought of as he awoke was of Jude.

They rode their bikes down to the shore, rain trying to find them while they found a place to hide underneath a very large oak tree. They sat down in the grass, listening to the sound of rain meeting ocean, watching the waves watch them. They sat closer together than they had in awhile, both fully aware of what today was and what tomorrow would be.

Jude decided he would be the brave one today, for all it was worth, this would be his very last opportunity. "We kissed."

The words hung between them like needles, waiting to puncture one of them at the slightest shift in movement. Draco's heart skipped and he closed his eyes tightly. "Yeah, we did."

An awkwardness sat about them, Draco was so unaccustomed to this, first he was forced to be here but then he had adapted and even found himself enjoying the simplicity of the muggle life, and how he was being subjected to awkwardness, this wouldn't stand, he had to wrap his fist tightly around something that he could rightly defined as himself. He turned to Jude, "We kissed. I've never kissed a man before, but, that's fine. I enjoyed it, and I accept that." He stopped, fumbling with what to say, how to say it. "I'm leaving today, I'm going somewhere that... well... I'll probably never see you again. And, I'm selfish and unkind and so much different than you think I am. But... I... I can't explain it... I... feel something... towards you... towards this," his hand motioned between them, "and... well... all I have wanted to do is kiss you again." He stopped, his brows furrowed in his own confusion, he saw the sad expression upon Jude and suddenly felt terrible, and even more confused. "I'm sorry." He blurted, almost wordlessly, letting his hand come down to rest upon Jude's.

Jude stared down at the grass beneath them, and then let his eyes find the waves before them. The rain trying it's hardest to soak them was failing, leaving little behind but the soothing sound through the leaves above them. His eyes came to rest upon Draco's and he had concluded what he needed to in his mind. "You're right." He said, at last, attempting a small smile. "You're leaving." Before Draco could say something in anger, or sadness, or embarrassment even, Judd slipped his hand around Draco's head and pulled him into him, kissing him furiously, letting his guard down and allowing Draco access to his mouth. Heat rose within both of them as Draco clumsily toppled on top of the other man, mounting him and never letting his mouth leave Jude's for more than a gasp. He had dreamed about this in such detail, terrified and curious, he found that reality was far more interesting and rewarding then his dreams. Jude's hands moved along Draco's back, keeping him pulled tightly to him. Every part of Draco swelled as he felt immense relief flood him every time their lips puckered against one another, each time his tongue danced with the others, and it was all still so strange. Rising erections and breathless kisses came to a halt as a taunting shout came from afar.

"Don't make me call the police, you disgusting faggots!" A loud but distant roar made Draco crumbled off of Jude in dismay. "How dare you smear your filth in the face of our Lord?!" The shriek took the form of an ugly middle aged woman. Bothered and hot, Draco almost didn't notice, but he did notice that Jude was absolutely rigid with shame. As if though God were real and present and certainly held a grudge against Draco, from mist he saw the form of Severus approaching the two. Knowing his uncle wouldn't give Draco a moment to say goodbye, Draco grabbed Jude's face with his hands.

"I may have loved you, Jude. You're the most beautiful thing and I need to tell you this now so that it doesn't haunt me. Please go home and write. Please remember me. You were so much fun. We had so much fun." Draco was now the one smiling from ear to ear as he came down back to meet their lips together. "And I really enjoy that. I'll probably never see you again, but I'll think of you. I promise, I'll think of you." Draco wrapped his arms around the man, kissed his forehead and whispered his goodbye.

**Author's note: **I just wanted to quickly spend this chapter establishing Draco's character and his romantic feelings so that later chapters can be more accessible. Not sure what direction I'm going in, but I look forward to any criticism, comments, and compliments (and even suggestions) if they may come my way. Thank you!


	3. Ch 2 Back at Hogwarts

Draco felt cold as he slithered into the Slytherin corridor, keeping his profile engulfed in shadow as he made his way through his friends. Dinner had been hard enough for him, conjuring up wild tales of some rich witch whom he apparently abandoned after a fantastic summer vacation. It wasn't that Draco found it hard to be his old self again, it was the knowledge that anyone of them could discover he had become a traitor and then proceed to kill him. He wondered why Dumbledore had not warned him, although, Draco thought suddenly, maybe nothing had happened, maybe the dark lord wasn't advancing. He'd like to believe that.

Pansy had been pestering him the most, asking this and that about his imaginary girlfriend, she was clearly distressed over the whole imaginary ordeal. Where did you meet her, what does she look like, who is her family, Pansy had carried on for hours prodding him. He once had taken a real fancy to her, in third and fourth year. He thought the way her short black hair caressed her face gently was a sight to see, and her piercing eyes, eyes that could see through anything... He thought her beautiful. But now as she gossiped and jabbered on, he thought her a nuisance.

"Pansy dear, please shut it. You're driving me mad! I do not have any interest in knowing who is fucking who, when where or how!" Draco threw his hands into the air and then proceeded to stand and walk away, "I'm going for a walk, please don't follow me." As he walked out of their common room, he turned suddenly with a forced smile, "I'll see you later Pans, have a good night." Maybe he shouldn't have done that, maybe his old self was a better self. It suddenly felt different though, those books he had read over the summer, the music and that man, something was different about this world, Draco thought. Something new and strange.

He slowed his pace down, everyone had gone to sleep it seemed, Hogwarts was quiet and dark, with the only light coming from the moon that hung in the sky like a giant torch. Only a few clouds swept about above him. He would probably get in trouble if someone saw him, he slowed his breath to a faint whisper and moved through the corridors like water sliding down a window after a rainstorm.

Draco found himself standing alone out in the courtyard. He had never realized how breathtaking Hogwarts was. Staying in a dingy muggle home in the middle of nowhere can really open eyes, he supposed. He seated himself and folded his hands together, all he could hear was his heart beat and the sound of his steady breath. He felt alone, goosebumps worked their way over his body, he felt tired and... and sad. Draco Malfoy was sad. He made a noise of disapprovement with his mouth and looked the other way, his eyes searching for something, something to distract him as he felt his face swell and watched as the trees in the distance grew blurry. He bit his lip. So much was happening, so fast, too fast, too fast for him to keep up, to adjust. Just last year, before his summer had ruined everything, he was a well adjusted elite pure-blood wizard with a destiny written in stone, someone who would stand concrete under any distress or displeasure. Someone who knew where he was going, what he was doing, with no doubts clouding his mind, no sense of lost self, no guilt... no fear. He shut his eyes tightly as a tear rolled down over his cheek, his jaw clasped as he tried to remain silent.

Then suddenly a noise, a shuffling of feet, a faint whisper held under someone's breath, Draco shot up, eyes wide and his hand drew his wand out in front of him.

"Who's there?" Draco's voice involuntarily shook, for he knew how much danger he could be in. Just one Death Eater, if just one knew...

He could hear the sound of someone breathing right in front of his face, but yet there was no one. Fear and confusion wrapped around his throat as he kept his hand firmly up pointing directly in front of himself.

"Reveal yourself or I swear I'll curse you!" He shouted.

Then suddenly a man stood in front of him. His face cast in shadow, Draco took a step backwards.

"Look, I'm sorry-" the man started, walking forwards as he spoke, "I didn't mean to catch you out here like this, I was just going for a stroll... Can you put the wand down now?"

_Harry fucking Potter. _Draco's thoughts suddenly spun around, whizzing away from fear and falling deep into hatred.

"What the hell are you doing out here, Potter? Getting off on following me now, are we?" Draco still held his wand out towards the other man.

"Malfoy. Don't make this a big deal." Harry kept his head down, apparently uninterested in a little duel. His hands didn't even move towards his wand in his back pocket, he just stood there.

Draco moved his wand down slowly, realizing Harry was out and about for nearly the same reason as he was. To get away. However, Draco did not amuse such thoughts. "How long have you been standing there?" A small blush found his cheeks as he asked, his eyes trying hard not to stare.

Harry shook his head softly, "Don't worry about it."

_He saw me crying, _Draco thought, _wonderboy saw me crying. _His hands curled into fists.

"It's none of my business, and I really don't care either way." Harry paused, the same tone of voice he always had when speaking to Draco, the same unwavering disdain. "But you shouldn't be out here, not after what happened to your parents, it's just not safe."

Draco's face shot up, "What do you mean my parents? What the hell are you talking about?" He took a step forward, unknowingly raising his wand again, out of compulsion perhaps.

"You don't know?" Harry asked, confused. His face relaxed suddenly in realization, "...you don't know." His voice was so soft that Draco could hardly hear it even in the utter silence of the courtyard. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?!" Draco snarled, "Sorry about what?! Tell me what you know, Potter, I swear I will hex you into oblivion if you don't bloody fucking tell me!" A pain curled around Draco's chest. He couldn't recognize what it was. Fear... a different fear.

In a whisper, his hair fallen over his eyes and his arms now wrapped around himself, Harry muttered, "They're dead," the words hit Draco like flying bricks and he tumbled backwards down onto the ground, he didn't even notice how wet and hot his face had become, he stared blankly into the space in front of him, "well, they're going to be, soon, they were found out. You were found out. How can you not know about this?"

The words hung around Draco like venomous snakes, he tried his hardest not to hear them, but then it occurred to him suddenly, "Not yet... they're not yet dead? Is that what you said? Where are they? How do you know this?" He stood back up again, walking forward to Harry, grabbing him by his robes and pushing him up against the wall too quickly for Harry to react. "How the fuck do you know this?! Why haven't I been told?! I'll fucking kill you, Potter! Tell me! Tell me where they are!"

Only sad eyes met him, a stillness he did not recognize, "I don't know..." Harry mumbled, "I just... I felt it..." Startled by their closeness, Harry turned his face away from Draco.

"You... felt it." Draco spat as he released the man from his tight grasp. "What the hell does that mean?!"

Draco had forcibly dragged Harry straight to Dumbledore, a man he didn't much admire in the way of company, but he knew that if anyone knew what Harry was talking about, what it meant, it would be him.

Dumbledore sighed, placing his hands gently down on Harry's shoulders, walking behind him. "I was afraid it would happened, that it would come to this." He sat down behind his large desk, "It seems that young Mr. Potter here has experienced the foreknowledge of Voldemort's plans." He paused, "I'm afraid... Draco... that your family has been discovered as traitors."

"How could this have happened?" Draco whispered, unaware of how strange he appeared to Harry right now, vulnerable and broken. "And what do you mean, he experienced some premonition? What are you going on about?" A tone of anger still lingered in his throat.

"Harry and Voldemort are... connected, through his scar, a piece of Voldemort exists. Harry... is able to see his thoughts, to feel his feelings... from time to time. It was fortunate that he was able to sense what will happen to your parents, or otherwise I'm afraid there would never have been any hope for their safety. That in mind, I'm afraid this year is about to drastically change... for the both of you."

Harry and Draco shot each other a glance, "What do you mean for the both of us? What do I have to do with this?" Harry said angrily. He wanted nothing to do with the pack of Death Eaters. Although a part of him genuinely mourned for Draco, most of him literally couldn't care less. He couldn't count the millions of fights he had happened upon with the man, how many times he could have just completely lost it and ended his life. He had always thought of Draco as just miniature Voldie, just waiting to have his turn.

"Well..." Dumbledore continued, turning his eyes now downwards towards his hands which he had folded in front of himself, "In order to save your life as well as the life of your parents, only Harry can help you now." Dumbledore finished, moving his hand over towards Harry.

"Scarhead?!" Draco nearly shouted, exasperated, "How on Salazar's green Earth could scarhead ever be of any help to ME?!"

"Draco, please calm yourself. This is no time for such outbursts." Dumbledore spoke solemnly, acknowledging the boys predicament. "Harry is the only one who knows Voldemort's thoughts, his feelings, and most importantly, his plans. If you are to find and save your parents, I believe his assistance would be much desired in your current situation."

"Do I not get a say in this?" Harry said, his arms crossed and his face emotionless, perhaps a mask, perhaps true apathy... "Why do I care what happens to you and your wretched family?"

A small silence was about to fall upon the three, but then Draco's pride finally found him, "What do you mean wretched?! My family is the latest in one of the greatest pure blood lines the wizarding world has ever seen! You should be so honored to assist me in my search for them!"

"You're just a pack of filthy Death Eaters, you probably are just trying to get me alone so you can ship me off to your master." Harry's eyes were cold and dark as he kept his gaze tight on Draco's confused glare. "I'm not about to risk my life for my enemy and his horrid family..."

"Now now, before we start down this road-" Dumbledore started.

"HORRID?! You are such a mudblood-loving baboon!"

"-wretched little ferret bastard-"

"-scarfaced pouf-"

"Boooooys! Pleaseeee. Now settle down. No need for such language." Dumbledore held his hands up. "Harry, you cannot possibly save everyone, but I leave this decision in your hands. Now, I think it would be best if you two talked amongst yourselves... outside of my office."

As Draco and Harry crossed the room to leave, they missed the small smile on Dumbledore's face and the twinkle that met his eyes.

Draco watched the back of Harry's head with disdain. "Potter," He said aloud finally, hoping the sound would startle him to stop moving. No luck. "Potter! Jesus will you just slow down!" Draco lurched forward grabbing the other man's arm and twisting him towards Draco violently.

"Let go of me!" Harry shouted, turning red with emotion. Draco did so, unaware that they were both standing still now, alone in the empty corridor.

"Look I'm sorry," Harry continued, "Even if it's true... that you and your parents have switched sides... that doesn't make up for everything they have done, everything you've done." Harry paused, looking for the right words to say. "I mean, I've nearly kill you before, and you've nearly killed me..." A long pause hung in the air as the realization of such a thing settled over their shoulders.

"What can I say to make you help me? Do you think I want this? I had to spend my entire summer away from everyone, my friends, my family, all because I'm a coward. I'm sure you like hearing that, don't you? You want me to beg? Is that it?" Draco felt impatient, a nervous tick dancing across his skin. He didn't know how much time he had, he had wasted three months, maybe they had been found out so long ago... how had Severus not know? He wanted to shake... to cry... He held Harry's unsure gaze. "...Please?"

"Let me..." Harry's eyes darted back and forth on the ground beneath them, "...lemme think about it. Just... let me be alone... I don't know." He turned, walking quickly into the dark.

Draco stood there, his mouth slightly parted as he had wanted to say something, there must have been something he could have said, something to convince the other man to help him. Draco didn't even really know why he needed to convince him, things were moving too fast. Couldn't he save his parents himself? He knew they must be at his house, hell he could just apparate there and apparate back... Maybe it was thinking like that which would cause him to lose his life... Draco looked down at his hands, rubbing them together for some false sense of comfort. What was happening to him? All he wanted was to be able to finish school like a normal everyday wizard. And why Harry goddamn Potter? Of everyone Draco knew, why on Earth did it have to be the one person he couldn't stand more than anyone else? Hell he would have rather have had to acquire the assistance of the bloody mudblood Granger, at least she was _slightly_ more level headed than Harry, at least she wouldn't cause a near death duel every 5 minutes. Harry just didn't _work_ with Draco, like gears in a clock, Harry was too large, too obtrusive to work with Draco, well not physically, but rather mentally, egotistically, Harry's ego, Draco thought, far exceeded his own. Harry was like fire and Draco was like air, they would do nothing but fight against each other. Draco brought his hands to his face in despair.

The next day, school went about as usual. _Somehow._ Somehow, Draco thought, Somehow everyone here has no idea that the world is currently crumbling down all around him. Somehow not a single Slytherin caught on to his behaviour this morning, not a single one could sniff out the pounding pain growing inside his heart. Not a single Gryffindor bothered to realize his pain, displaying their tribal nasty-looks as he walked past them, his eyes searching for the Wonderboy and coming up short.

Draco couldn't pay attention to anything, mindlessly picking under his nails until they started bleeding. He jammed his finger into his mouth with a small hiss. He hadn't realized he had been doing that. He hadn't realized he had been in Potions class, he hadn't realized that Wonderboy had finally come to grace the world with his presence, but as Draco sucked on his finger absentmindedly, he found his gaze coming up to meet Potters and Draco nearly shot out of his seat. "Jesus Christ where have you been?!" He shouted, standing above the seated student body, Snape threw him a glance.

"Will you please be seated at once? What is the cause of this outburst?" Snape proceeded to glide towards the boy.

"I'm sorry sir..." Draco started, having realized, finally, where he was, who he was and what he was doing. He pulled his finger out of his mouth, the blood began resurfacing. "I've... managed to cut myself pretty badly, it seems. May I be excused?"

Snape barely glanced at Draco's finger before mumbling, "Please do." With a tone of mild disdain and apparent lack of humour.

Draco walked pasted Harry, purposefully, glaring at him in hopes that the other man would follow suit. Out in the corridor, Draco glanced down at his finger. It appeared that while Draco was trying to stop the blood by sucking it, he had bitten it at some point and caused the small opening to deepen. Blood continued to slide down over his palm. He seemed to be bleeding quite a bit, but the shock of it did not cause him to try and stop the bleeding. A simple healing spell would do the trick but Draco found himself against the wall, falling down to sit and watching the bloody slowly pool into his palm. It didn't hurt, Draco thought, in fact it felt pretty good. The throbbing in his heart had, at least momentarily, stopped. Draco breathed through his nose, he felt lightheaded.

"What are you doing?" He heard a voice say from above him, and then he felt himself being lunged forward, his face fallen into something soft... something soft and sweet smelling. It smelled like smoke, and honey. It smelled like honey. Draco pressed his nose into the smell. Then suddenly he was against the wall, standing now, and staring at his mortal enemy. "Why did you let it get so bad?" Harry said. Draco looked down at his red hand, the blood had stopped. "What's wrong with you?" Harry stepped back, he had been holding Draco up and as he moved Draco suddenly felt a bit colder, a bit weaker.

"I don't need your help, Potter." Draco snarled, trying his hardest to fight against the pain coming into his heart again, the sensation of blackening, like a sticky black goo was filling his arteries. "It was..." Draco thought of something to say but could not find a right way to say it, his face tinged pink at the thought of explaining anything to Potter. "Did you decide if you'll help me or not? I don't have forever to wait on your decision."

Harry took a step back. "I will." Before Draco could say anything, he continued. "Not because I like you, not because I like your family, not because I don't think you all deserve some sort of eternal punishment..." Harry paused, rethinking his words, "I will because I don't want you to have to go through what I go through. I don't want you to lose your parents like I lost mine."

A sigh crept over Draco. He wanted to shout, to praise the stars, but instead he bowed his head, "Thank you."


End file.
